As she looked at the wastes around her, trying to find some familiar feature to navigate by, Miranda finally admitted what she had feared to be true; she was definitely lost. She wanted to call out, hoping that her companions would hear her and come to her aid, but she didn't want to take that chance. She knew they were close to the border, and she wanted to avoid drawing the attention of the savages to the east. She'd heard all the stories, and was quite certain she didn't want to star in one.
Some of her father's soldiers had decided to go for a small hunting trip, spending a few days in the wild. She'd convinced them to let her come along – after all, she was a grown woman, capable of taking care of herself, and thought it would be nice to get away from the city for a day or two. And it had been quite nice, until she'd decided to go for a walk, and had wandered further away from the camp than she'd expected.
She sat down on the ground, burying her face in her hands. She was beginning to feel quite scared. Even more so when she heard someone breathing, and she realized that she was being watched.
She whipped her head around. A few metres away, a young man was sitting on a rock, leaning on a spear. He was wearing a tunic that showed signs of being worn, but was quite clean, and seemed to be expensive – or at least high-quality. This was one of the barbarians of the east, and seemingly a high-ranking one. He was looking at her with curiosity, and while he didn't seem aggressive, his eyes weren't friendly either. When she looked at him, he nodded in a neutral greeting, but his eyes were still studying her.
The man raised an eyebrow, but other than that, seemed quite undisturbed by her outburst. "The border's about a mile that way," he said, pointing behind her. "I'm not on your land. YOU are on ours."
Miranda bit her lip. Could he be correct? She didn't THINK she'd wandered that far, but she wasn't sure. After all, she had no idea where she was.
The savage was still looking at her with a detached curiosity, and feeling his eyes on her body was starting to annoy her greatly. "Do you mind keeping your eyes to yourself?" she snapped, folding her hands.
"You're new," he said calmly. "I've seen your soldiers in their metal armour, and the peasants in their rags. Occasionally, hunters in leather armour cross the border, and we chase them off." He shrugged. "A garment like that? Never seen before."
She looked down at her robe, straightening it and brushing off a bit of the dirt. "You haven't seen much," she said. "It's a robe. Quite common where I'm from."
"So that's a robe," he said, shrugging. "That makes sense, I suppose. Not too practical, it seems, but nice."
Miranda straightened her back, drawing herself up as far as she could. Her fear was all but gone, replaced by a rising irritation at the calmness of the savage. He was just sitting there, staring at her, remaining perfectly calm whatever she did. She was filled by an overwhelming desire to get under his skin, to make him annoyed. Before she knew what had happened, she'd picked up a rock and aimed it at his head.
He followed the rock with his eyes as it whistled past him, not even close, but when he looked back at her, it was quite clear that she had succeeded in annoying him. "Don't do that," he said, his voice suddenly cold enough to make her shiver. He was still calm, but a lot less friendly. There was a warning in his eyes to match the one in his voice, and deep down, Miranda knew she should leave. But she didn't; she bent down, picking up another rock and letting it fly.
As it bounced off his chest, not even making him wince, he rose to his feet, marching towards her. She suddenly realized how tall he was; towering at least a head and a half above her, and quite muscular as well, he seemed a lot more intimidating up close, especially scowling like that. The fear she'd previously discarded was suddenly back, with friends. As he put his hand on her shoulder, she saw her life flashing before her eyes. "You're not very bright," he told her. "You enter my lands, alone, and attack me? I could kill you in a second if I wanted to." As his grip around her shoulder tightened, causing her to wince in pain, she had no trouble believing him.
He looked down at her with a predatory smile, and shook his head. "Luckily for you, I don't want to. I have something quite different in mind." He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the rock he'd been sitting on. She tried to wriggle free from his grasp, but quickly realized it was pointless.
He sat down on the rock, grinning as he flipped her over his lap. With a quick jerk, he'd pulled up her robe, revealing her silky underwear. "What are you doing?" she gasped, the shock stronger than her fear.
"You've been acting like a spoiled brat," he said as he pulled her underwear right off, placing his palm on her pale, quivering cheeks. "I'm going to treat you like one." He lifted his hand, bringing it down with a smack that rang out in the silent air.
"Ow!" she yelled, kicking her legs. That stung! "You can't spank me!" she yelled, trying to stand up, but he easily held her down.
"You trespass on my lands, are rude to me, and throw rocks?" He lifted his hand again, delivering a series of hard, quick spanks as she tried to squirm away. "You should count your lucky stars I don't have a strap here, or I'd really warm your backside."
The threat made her shiver, and the mental image of the savage armed with a thick strip of leather was hard to discard. However, the sting in her tail made it hard to focus on anything but the spanking she was currently getting. She tried to squirm away from his punishing hand, but he held her in place.
As the pain grew with every deafening smack, Miranda was humiliated to discover that she was sobbing loudly, beating her fists ineffectively against his leg. She kicked, she squirmed, she pleaded and threatened, but nothing could stop that awful savage from painting her backside bright red.
Finally, long after Miranda was certain she'd die from the pain, he stopped the spanking, pushing her off his lap. "I expect to see a different attitude from you, young lady."
Miranda glared at him as she knelt on the ground, frantically trying to rub the sting out of her seat. She felt humiliated, and in anger, her hand found a sharp rock on the ground nearby. As she grasped it, he stared at her, unable to believe what he was seeing. "You CAN'T be that stupid," he said, shaking his head. "You just CAN'T." She hesitated for a moment, and he continued. "What do you THINK is going to happen if you throw that at me? What the hell do you think I'm going to do?"
Miranda let go of the rock. Sitting would be enough of a problem already, she really didn't want to make it worse.
He smiled. "Wise choice."
A few minutes later, she was moving towards the border, both hands clutching the seat of her robe. He'd pointed out the direction for her, and she was trying to move in a straight line. She was moving slowly, partly because every step was murder on her bottom, but also because she wanted the sting to die down before she re-joined her companions. She wanted to keep the spanking secret, and wincing while she gingerly rubbed her rear end was kind of a give-away.
She lifted her robe, deciding to get some cool air on it while she was still alone, when she suddenly realized she'd forgotten her panties. She kept moving, anyway; she was still on Barbarian territory, and didn't want to chance meeting the savage again. She was absolutely sure she never wanted to meet that man again.
Well, reasonably sure. OK, somewhat sure.
Actually, now that she thought about, she wasn't sure at all. He was quite good-looking, and there was something about him that interested her.
But one thing was certain. She wasn't chancing running into him again before her bottom had cooled.
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